The List

As Mrs. Greenwood stood by the stove, waiting for the bubbles to show up in her kettle, she thought about what she hates most about herself. The only two things she could come up with were her bad breath and her inexplicable patience towards tardiness. Perhaps that explains why the 74-year-old widow always avoided confronting her tenants when they didn’t settle their rent on time. Instead, she preferred to slip them notes under their doors, with some cookies. In some rare occasions, she had tea in their living rooms, alone, whenever they were away for the weekend.

When her doorbell rang at 6:05 am, she narrowed it to two possibilities: either a clogged pipe needed an urgent repair, or a late rent check was about to be defended.

Mrs. Greenwood prayed it wasn’t the latter. She picked up a bonbon from the swan-shaped porcelain bowl, strategically placed on the credenza by the door, sucked on it quickly and opened the door.

Sister Magda, a nun in her mid 40s and one of her older tenants, stood in the hallway in her black uniform, holding a black umbrella and a black leather bag. Mrs. Greenwood nervously brushed her dyed hair and cleared her throat. But to her surprise, Sister Magda handed her an envelope.

- “Good morning Mrs. Greenwood. I know you usually wake up early. Again, I am awfully sorry for the inconvenience, but you’re aware of the whole economic crisis in the country.

Mrs. Greenwood rolled her eyes and dreaded answering. Sister Magda resumed.

- But thanks to your patience and to our merciful Lord, I am now over this hardship.

Mrs. Greenwood opened the envelope and almost choked on her bonbon.

- But you’re only 3 months late. This is way too much.

- I know. I thought I’d make it up and cover the rest of the year.

Mrs. Greenwood looked at the nun while trying to do the math in her head.

- That’s almost …

Sister Magda interrupted her immediately.

- 20,000$. Correct. Of course, I would need receipts for the advanced payments. Perhaps I could pass by on my way back from school?

Before Mrs. Greenwood could find her words, the nun had opened the elevator door:

- God bless!

By the time the elevator had reached the ground floor, Mrs. Greenwood was reconsidering the things she hated most about herself.

It was no secret how biting February was, especially for a thin person like Mrs. Greenwood; the cold weather became… personal. But today that was the least of her concerns. As she dragged her heavy grocery cart home, she kept thinking about the brown envelope. Her day dreaming was brutally interrupted by the sound of a siren driving past her. She looked at her wrist watch, it’s 2:45pm.

By 3:08pm, Mrs. Greenwood was waiting at the last red light before her building when she noticed a commotion across the street. People were gathered around a car crash, looking at two paramedics attending to a severely wounded teenager. Mrs. Greenwood gasped and ran to the spot, while pulling her grocery cart. A police officer stopped her right before she approached the damaged cars.

- You need to step back Ma’am.

- Was there a nun in this car? Is she okay?

- Do you know her?

- Of course I do. She lives in my building, was she hurt?

The officer pursed his lips as he glanced towards the ambulance. Mrs. Greenwood followed his gaze and saw 2 paramedics lifting up the injured nun on a stretcher.

- Ma’am? Ma’am?

- Yes?

- Does she have any relatives we could contact?

- Not that I know of. But I could contact the school where she works, and take care of her personal belongings.

- We’ll keep her identification documents, and the rest you could check with my colleague over there, officer Rifkin.

Mrs. Greenwood felt a weird rush flowing from her lungs up to her cheeks and eyes. She quickly reached out for a napkin to dry her tears, but there were none. Mrs. Greenwood figured then she had something else to add to her hate list; she could never cry.

It was 7:04 pm when Mrs. Greenwood hung up the phone on the credenza. The nurse had just informed her that Sister Magda passed an hour ago. The old lady rested her back against the door, and waited. Shortly after, she heard a gentle knock. Mrs. Greenwood grabbed a bonbon, rolled it in her mouth and opened.

A nun, in her late 60s, stood at the door, hands down, fingers crossed.

- You must be Sister Berenice.

- It’s Reverend Mother.

- Apologies.

- Forgiven. May I come in?

- Oh, please do.

Mrs. Greenwood reached out for the candy bowl.

- Bonbon?

- I don’t eat sugar.

- Of course, some tea perhaps?

- I can’t stay long. I just need to grab Sister Magda’s belongings.

- Sure, excuse me.

The mother superior waited by the door, scanning the space quickly, looking for religious figurines or pictures. She couldn’t spot any. Mrs. Greenwood came back with a stack of papers and folders.

- I can find a plastic bag for you to –

- No need. Are you sure that’s all?

- Everything. I almost cut my finger with a piece of glass while cleaning the bag. It had blood on it too. Is there anything specific you’re looking for?

The nun paused in silence, looking at the folders.

- Sister Magda shall be missed. She was our book keeper, and she meticulously took care of every single detail at school. But sadly, her soul was not as pure.

- What do you mean?

- For the past 2 years, she has been blackmailing some parents. She would ask for money in exchange for keeping secrets she knew about their children. Some of those parents were politicians, bankers, and public figures.

- Sister Magda?... Sweet Jesus! What kind of secrets?

- The kind we don’t want to expose to the public. It would ruin our reputation.

- How did you find out?

- She wrote everything on a little black book. Names, addresses, pending transactions. You think… I could have a look inside her apartment?

- Now?

- You don’t need to trouble yourself, I can have a quick scan and bring back the keys. I just need to find the book.

- Oh, I thought you had it, you know because …

An awkward moment of silence prevailed. Mrs. Greenwood sighed and continued:

- Never mind. I’ll get you the keys, Reverend Mother.

Mrs. Greenwood opened the drawer of the credenza, and grabbed the spare key with the number 11 on it. She handed it to the nun.

- One floor up. The door with the snake plant. You need to pull the door a little bit while turning the keys. Pull and turn.

- Pull and turn.

- Take your time.

- Thank you, Mrs. Greenwood.

- It’s Norma.

The nun headed up the stairs, and Mrs. Greenwood closed the door after her. She went to the dining room and sat at the head chair. She opened her mouth, took out the bonbon and carefully placed it on the table. After a long inhale, the old lady moved her hand to the seat next to her and reached out for Sister Magda’s stained black bag. She took out the brown envelope, opened it, and grabbed the stack of money… and a little black book.

As Mrs. Greenwood flipped through the pages of the book, she thought about what she had done, waiting for the guilt to kick in. To her surprise, it didn’t.

And that’s something that wasn’t going to be added to her hate list.